Looking Sad
by MorbidbyDefault
Summary: Sometimes the people with the brightest smiles are secretly the saddest.


So, just wanted to say thank you for all the lovely birthday wishes, fics, artworks, etc. It made what would have been a sucky way to spend my bday, a rather enjoyable one. So thank you all. Also, thanks to the reviews of my stories from new people, they make me happy!

Hm, I don't own either of these characters, props go to ACD and M&G. Hope you enjoy!

Looking Sad

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_''I know what that means, looking sad when you think no one can see you.''_

-Molly Hooper-

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Her smile was always in place, always congenial and bright. She rarely wavered, only when pushed to the extreme edge of her emotions. Then, after a breather, the smile was back in its place. Molly had thought that maybe, just maybe, if her smile remained plastered there, then she'd feel the emotions meant to go with it. However, this was not the case.

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It had started when she was young. Her mother and father were both happy people. Her father had been the same way. Always smiling, always happy. Her mother was sweet, bubbly and energetic. Molly had thought their life together perfect. One day, however, she discovered this was a lie.

''What do you mean you can't come with me?" A man's voice called from somewhere in the house. Molly had just returned home from school, early ending day. Her mum's cars was in the drive, which she thought slightly odd. Molly made her way into the house, dropping her bag on the floor. She was soon intrigued, as her mother's voice echoed from down the hall. The young girl made her way down the hallway, and came to the corner of the door frame that led into their small kitchen. There, pressed up against the sink, was her mother. Half undressed, with some man attacking her neck with his teeth. His hair was tangled, and her mother's lipstick was smeared across his lower lip. Molly watched in confusion, as her mum and a man, not her father, were further entwining themselves. Molly turned to run out the door, when her mother's voice stopped her.

''What about my daughter? I can't just leave her. She's so young.'' Her mum was saying this, all while gasping for air as the man kissed further down her.

''She'll be fine. I need you more. She's young, she'll forget you if you leave now. Besides, she doesn't mean that much to you anyway. You said so yourself. She doesn't count.'' The mystery man spoke, and Molly's eyes immediately filled with tears. She turned and ran. Down the hall, out the front door, and down the street. She hadn't returned until it was almost supper time. When she did, it was only her father who was home. She saw him through the window. His face was in a deep frown. Clearly stressed and emotion filled. He held a note in his hand, and his head was heavy. He looked sad. Molly walked through the front door and into the living room. This time, when she saw him, his face wore a bright smile.

''Hello, sweet girl. How was school today?" He asked with sincere interest. Molly smiled up at him, realizing that he was sparing her from whatever was contained in the note.

''It was great, Papa. How was your day?" She asked. Molly decided in that moment, that as long as her Papa was willing to hide the pain, so would she be.

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She had received the call shortly after taking her final exam for medical school. Molly found herself racing through the halls of St. Bart's hospital, running toward the cancer treatment ward. She reached the door, and took the opportunity to collect herself. As she molded her face into its smile, she looked through the small window, and saw her father's face. He stared out the large bay window in his room, his face in a straight line. His tired eyes were filled with a deep look. He looked sad. Molly sighed, and entered the room.

''Hey dad! How are you feeling today?" She asked. The thin man in the hospital bed wore his usual smile, and ushered for her to come closer. She did, and he wrapped his frail arms around her.

''Oh, my dear, sweet girl. Today is a very big day. Just know that I am so very proud of you. I love you, Molly.'' He whispered. Molly hid her tears that wanted to come out. If he would hide his fear and sadness, then so would she.

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She had graduated with honors, having practically aced her exams. Her father was not there to see her receive her diploma. She was sad to think that after all her hard work, all the late night cram sessions with waffles and coffee, and all the times he had encouraged her not to quit, her dad didn't even get to see the fruits of his hard work. Yet Molly held the same bright smile on her face.

'If he were here, he'd be smiling. So I will too.' She told herself.

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Molly's smile had been forced a lot lately. All the jabs at her appearance, all the cruel statements and observations about her supposedly gay boyfriend. Even with the harsh words from one Sherlock Holmes, Molly refused to let him be the one to break her. She would, on occasion, let the smile drop for a brief time, if only to get her point across. But it was always back in place by the next time she encountered the consulting detective.

'Why shouldn't I smile?' She thought to herself. 'It's not like I'm important to him anyway.' So, Molly made her mind up. She would not let Sherlock see her smile fade.

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It had been at Christmas, the first time she had felt the truth behind how much it could hurt to smile. Sherlock was deducing every tiny aspect of her. The gift, the make up, the dress. Her intentions were quite obvious to him, but he missed the one key point: it was all for him. She watched as he opened the tag to reveal the biggest truth to him. She saw his face fall in the realization that maybe he took it a bit too far. Molly's face fought off the brunt of her true emotions. A rueful smile was mixed with a painful look as she spoke.

''You always say such horrible things. Every time. Always, always.'' Molly's voice wavered, the slight smile of disbelief still on her face. It fell, only for a moment, as she watched him move back and forth uncomfortably.

''I am sorry. Forgive me.'' Her smile was tucked away as he leaned in to kiss her on the cheek.

''Merry Christmas, Molly Hooper.''

It was a pity kiss, she knew it was. He wanted to clear his conscious. It wasn't as if it meant something to him. It didn't count. She didn't count.

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She had been working beside him for countless hours. The room was silent, save for their breathing. Molly heard him muttering under his breath. She saw his face, the thin, straight line his lips drew, the furrow in his brow as he thought. He looked sad.

''You're a bit like my dad. He's dead. No, sorry...'' she stuttered over her poor word choice.

''Molly, please don't feel the need to make conversation. It's really not your area.'' His cold voice snapped, causing her smile to fade just a tad. It regained its composure, as she forced herself to continue on.

''When he was dying, he was always cheerful. He was lovely. Except when he thought no one could see. I saw him once. He looked sad.''

''Molly...'' the voice warned again. Molly took in a breath, and her smile fell a bit with the gaining of her nerves.

''You look sad. When you think he can't see you.'' She looked up to where John was standing across the room. He idly messed with the small dishes of samples. Sherlock's eyes looked up to him as well, before settling on her face.

''Are you okay? Don't just say you are, because I know what that means, looking sad when you think no one can see you.'' She said, her voice trying to emphasize what she meant. Her smile had faded completely now, only a look of concern in its place.

''You can see me.'' His dark voice spoke. Molly's smile returned quickly this time, too quickly.

''I don't count.'' She said with the smile. Sherlock had seen it. He saw the false look spread over her face like a virus, it caused him to look at her in confused awe.

''What I'm trying to say is, if there's anything I can do—anything you need, anything at all—you can have me. No, I just mean. I mean, if there's anything you need, it's fine.'' He watched as the smile wobbled into what it thought was the correct form of itself. It went from genuinely happy and eager, to small and slightly remorseful, before settling to quiet and still.

He had missed it, those many times before. He'd missed the clear signs of her fake demeanor. He hadn't been looking, maybe he had seen, but hadn't wanted to. In any case, Sherlock now saw past the warm mask that his pathologist wore, and saw all the emotions of a lost soul. She looked sad.

'If she's going to pretend like it is fine, then so will I.' The detective told himself.

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He watched her in the dark as she grabbed her things for the day. Her words played over in his mind, making more sense.

'I know what that means, looking sad...'

He heard her reach for the door, and decided he was done pretending.

''You're wrong, you know. You do count. You've always counted and I've always trusted you. But you were right. I'm not okay.'' His voice was filled with a deep seeded emotion, one very unfamiliar to him. Molly had turned around, her face no longer smiling. It was just her. Just Molly, and every emotion she held beneath the surface.

''Tell me what's wrong.'' She looked determined now. Still no false smile, no confused facade trying to break into its role. He approached her slowly, waiting to see how she might react. Waiting for the thing that triggered her smile.

''Molly, I think I'm going to die.'' He stated simply. Ah, there were the tears. Just brimming around her eyes. He knew she had them under the wraps of her cheery nature, he had wanted to see them for a long time.

''What do you need?" She asked. Her eyes filled with more concern and determination, ready to walk across hot coals for him. He stepped closer, wanting to wrap her in his arms.

''If I wasn't everything you think I am, everything I think I am, would you still want to help me?" He had to make certain. He had to make sure he had gone to the right person. He had to know for sure that what he thought he saw beneath the smile was really there. Love.

''What do you need?" She asked again. Her voice was quieter, and her face held not even the slightest remnants of a smile. She looked sad. She looked worried. She looked scared. Yet, she looked determined to help him. She looked sure.

'If she's sure, then so am I.' He told himself.

''You.''

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So there's that. Just something I noticed about Molly and Sherlock after rewatching their interaction on the show this past time. Tell me what you think. Thanks! Any prompts or ideas, let me know! Love you dearies!


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